


Allein Will Ich Nicht Sein

by hoteltrasher



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Other, Past Domestic Violence, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28558023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoteltrasher/pseuds/hoteltrasher
Summary: Paul wasn't the best at deciphering what he wanted. At times he was an enigma to himself. Luckily no one finds themselves alone in the world and when one day he bumps into Richard, a man about as complicated as himself, he feels whole.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers
Comments: 26
Kudos: 62





	1. Cold Hands In Spring

He found it fascinating to watch. On an infinite loop the waterdrops ran down gently on the window, each following in the others trails to mend together at the bottom as one. At times the droplets would slide slowly almost carefully looking for new directions to go in, to pave their own path, but in the end they would always end up together with the rest of the water, forming a whole. Once they had reached their destination the man in the shower lifted his eyes to find new drops of water on the glass only to follow them down once more. Sliding, gliding, rolling down. Again and again.

Paul re-adjusted his gaze to find his tired face in the reflection staring back. His eyelids felt heavy, but he didn't give them the satisfaction to let them close. The look in his eyes was empty, cold and distant, just as he felt. Quickly he dropped his stare and picked his naked body up from the floor. Paul shivered under the icy stream of his shower and reluctantly turned it off. His hand lingered on the handle before shaking his head and exiting the shower. He dressed himself into his working attire, which he did with haste, not giving himself time to look at his pale body that had turned blue at the tips. It was too cold. By the time he was done he checked once more if his reflection was presentable enough to go outside. Paul sighed deeply while he patted his hair down. While doing so he remembered his ex questioning him about his hairline. He hadn’t understood why any reasonable man would purposely cut it in an unusual manner. Paul had shrugged and told him he didn’t understand how any reasonable man could enjoy looking the same as everyone else. It wasn’t long before the two broke up. His earring glistered and before stepping out of his bathroom he faked a smile and questioned how ignorant some people could be. 

-

‘I would like the red shirt with the stripes at the bottom.. - no left, left, my left not your left, with the dates on the back, yes that one!’ The guy on the opposite side of the counter beamed at the shirt as he lifted it in front of his chest to see the fit. His girlfriend tilted her head and checked if the shoulders fell rightly over his own, she murmured to herself in question, then she nodded, seemingly satisfied with the way it made her partner look. Paul gave her one of his infamous fake smiles that he had practised, one of which he knew was convincing enough.

‘That’ll be 25,- euro’s, please.’ The pair exchanged the money and Paul handed them the receipt wishing them a great time at the concert. 

‘Hi, how can I help you?’ The second the couple was gone, Paul focussed on his new customers in line; looking at the queue he knew he was in for a long night. Most nights were like this, packed with happy people who’d fall for the unreasonably high prices of merch. Paul understood, because he too liked supporting bands he enjoyed listening to, even if that meant spending all his working hours on a silly item such as a beanie. Capitalism, he though grinding his teeth together. The reason he started this job was to experience the music scene and to hear the occasional beat of a band playing their well-known songs. Most of the time it was just him and his co-worker selling shirts and accessories without even coming near the stage. The two stood in a secluded area next to the wardrobe - opposite from the restroom, a place where one felt privileged not to suffer from claustrophobic disorder, for it was a complete and utter shit-show when people wanted to leave the building to smoke. 

Decency was not a word used in a concert hall. For all anyone cared, it did not exist within these walls. The only decent event Paul had the ‘great-fortune’ of experiencing, was when a drunk pissed in the sink without breaking eye contact with Paul, who had been washing his hands, and then apologised to himself in the mirror while wishing himself luck on his journey to find another place to pee in. It was mental. 

Sometimes Paul was lucky though. At times he could feel the heavy bass booming through the walls. The vibrations tingled his fingers, quickened his heartbeat and often left him breathless as if he himself was the one on stage. Other times he glanced through the heavy doors that opened when one had to leave for fresh air and he could peek inside for a small moment before the door would fall shut again. Those moments he felt privileged. There was always a buzz in the air, an atmosphere he resonated with and felt at ease with. Sometimes the concert hall felt like the only place he belonged, it fit. 

Paul fit. 

-

On his way home he walked passed a bar that was still open. The door slightly ajar let the laughter escape that came from within. Paul had entered many times before, always on his own to listen in on other people. He hesitated and stopped his step. At home no one awaited him and he quite disliked trying to fall asleep when he knew sleep wouldn’t come for him. Sighing to himself he stepped inside; it wasn’t that late yet, he allowed himself to have a drink. The noises of people talking grew louder together with the music as he entered. Taking a few more steps he was startled when suddenly a guy spilled his beverage on the floor, just a few centimeters away from Pauls’ shoes. 

‘Whoops, soorryy mate.’ He slurred then laughed unapologetically. Paul merely stared at him before walking past the puddle, shaking his head. Drunk people, he thought. At the bar he got himself a drink and silently looked for an interesting place to seat himself. Far away from the drunk crowd he knew. Tipsy people was what he was looking for, the best stories often came from them who are on the brink of letting go and spilling their thoughts. It made interesting content for those around to listen and Paul was just the guy whose ears prickled at the sound of that. A loud laughter sounded and he instantly knew he found his prey. Casually he walked up to the table and sat himself down one table across, his eyes facing them. The three occupants around the table seemed to be friends, all joking and comfort showed proudly on their faces. Paul sipped on his beer and focussed on their conversation. 

‘If you manage to down the rest of your beer without using your hands, the next round is on me. But, if you fail you will buy us a drink, hm?’ One of the three said with a sly smirk. The other glanced up happily at the sound of free booze and locked his arms behind his back, getting into position. 

‘That’ll cost you, Till.’ He replied with an amused tone in his voice. Slowly he leaned over his glass until his lips touched the rim, he put pressure on it to tip it carefully so the booze filled his mouth. He swallowed steadily and with the upmost concentration. One of his friends leaned closer over his shoulder to check if he didn’t drip, but he was surprisingly steady.

Until he got cocky.

The next sip of beer he tried to swallow was too much at once and the glass tipped over spilling the remainder of his drink over his trousers. Paul chuckled to himself.

‘Fuck!’ He cursed, sounding actually shocked like he hadn't considered it ever going wrong. His friends laughed at him. 

‘It looks like I fucking pissed myself!’ His words of course only added fuel to the fire, making his friends roar with heavy laughter. Till looked pleased realising he didn't have to get up from his chair to buy the next round of drinks. Before his friend started drinking without the use of his hands, he knew he'd fail. He was destined to. Well anyone would be after a couple of beers, but only Richard was mad enough to try. He never skipped on a dare. Content with himself and his company, he leaned back into his chair, drinking the last sip of his own drink.

‘I know I said this before, but this is honestly the last time I accept a challenge from you.’ His friend huffed as he pushed Tills’ shoulder forcefully, but the big guy didn’t seem fussed. He then rubbed his hands over the wet stain on his trousers, doing not much more than spread the dark spot. Then suddenly, as if he felt the stare from the table across, he looked up at Paul - his eyes growing dark. 

‘What the hell are you looking at?’ He demanded harshly.

Paul was caught. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, the blood draining from his face. He wasn’t good with public confrontation, he felt eyes on him from all around and wanted the ground to swallow him whole. If he ignored him it might’ve not happened, but he knew he was being a coward. Looking up, those same dark irises stared into his frightened ones. Pauls heartbeat sped up.

‘Well??’ He pressed.

‘Rich, come on now don’t be rude.’ His slender friend next to him said. Paul occupied himself by fiddling with his fingerless gloves his hands were hiding in; examining his nails that looked clean from the shower he took earlier on. Silently he wished he was standing under the icy stream right now, the cold clinging to his body, entering him like a ghost. Making his hairs stand up from the cold, his body change color. He liked to feel, really feel. Only then did he feel in control. It was sick, Paul knew and unhealthy but there wasn't anyone to stop him and so he didn't. O, how he craved the comfort of his home. The safety of his four walls around him. Yet here he was, surrounded by strangers far from comfort. And the worst part of it was that he put himself in this position. He knew he hadn’t answered the man, but he was afraid if he tried to speak a stutter might take over; he was embarrassed enough as it was.

A chair screeched and Paul looked up to see the dark haired man sit down across from him. His expression had been replaced by a softer one. He searched Pauls eyes for explanation or understanding, but when no sound came out of him, he spoke up again.

‘Were you laughing at me?’ 

There was a twinkle in his eyes from up close as Paul searched his face. Although his black hair was gelled neatly, he looked rough. His whole demeanour screamed ‘don’t fuck with me’ and Paul wasn’t about to test him. He knew right away the other man would win the fight, if it ever came to that. Paul was small, his body weak. While his opponent looked confident, strongly built and sure of himself Pauls' insecurities only grew worse. Besides, he didn't have muscular friends to back him up. 

He swallowed nervously. ‘I, I wasn’t laughing at you, just observing.’ He realised saying that didn’t make him sound less a creep, but the words were out before he could take them back.

The other man raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you here on your own?’ 

Paul was confused. He didn’t know what to make of this stranger at the opposite side of the table. He felt ambushed, yet he wasn’t scared. Intrigued, yet he wanted to run.

‘Yes.’ He confirmed. Now he was a creep and a loner. He waited for the other to make a joke, to laugh at him or mock him. But it stayed quiet. He did feel awfully looked at.

‘I’m sorry I-I should really go.’ Paul said as he raised to stand up, not longer being able to wait for insults to be slung his way. 

The other man stayed seated, looking tough despite his wet pants. ‘You only just got here.’ He said slowly. Pauls’ brow furrowed, he hadn’t thought anyone actually noticed him entering. Slightly intrigued, with a heart rate higher than was healthy, he sat down again. Almost feeling obliged to do so. The other mans’ eyes not leaving him for a second.

‘Good.’ He hummed in agreement and extended his hand. ‘I’m Richard Z. Kruspe.’ 

Paul looked at his outstretched hand and thought the situation was a bit bizarre. Less than a minute ago the man, Richard, looked ready to kick his ass. Now he was introducing himself, friendly yet still a mystery. Nevertheless Paul took his hand to shake and felt the warmth radiating through his gloves. 

‘I’m Paul.’ He answered with a nod. ‘Paul Landers.’ 

Richard smiled.

‘I like your hair Paul Landers.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! There it is, the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love to read your thoughts!
> 
> X


	2. Stained and Scattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is an idiot

The uncomfortable fabric felt sticky and dirty on his legs. It was even worse now he was walking, as he felt the trousers clinging to his legs, desperate to let go. It was irritating and continuously he cursed at himself, displeased by his own failure. It also did not help when the bartender scrunched up his nose and pointed him in the direction of the toilets. 

‘I didn’t fucking pee myself.’ He answered trying to sound like a person whose dignity was still somewhere in sight.

Why couldn’t he just back away from a challenge like any normal person would? Why did he, at all times, have to prove himself even if that resulted in embarrassment. Of course he knew why he behaved the way he did, he knew himself better than anyone. Ever since his youth he had been extremely competitive, to the point where people pitied him. Richard felt like he had to validate his worth, again and again until everyone felt he was worth their time. So when he had heard a snicker from across the room he felt his blood boil. Somebody laughing at him was breaking an image he tried to create. It was childish he knew, because he spilled fucking beer on himself and people were allowed to laugh at that. Hell, Richard would have laughed the loudest if it wasn’t him who spilled the drink. Yet coming from a stranger he felt exposed and hideous.

When he had looked up he was surprised by his view, but it didn’t calm his nerves in any way. A pretty face meant nothing if the inside was ugly. But when he saw the anxious, almost scared look portrayed on the other, he wondered whether or not he was right for calling him out. The single man stayed quiet and guilt crept up on Richard as he questioned if he perhaps had been too harsh with him. So he sat himself down, ready to apologise - yet the apology never came. The man with the short cut hair seemed lost, his eyes darting between his hands and Richards eyes. Every time he noticed Richard was still looking at him, he quickly dropped his gaze as if he was caught.

‘I’ll have three beers and a coke.’ Richard told the bartender in a monotone voice. His credit card in his hand ticked on the counter following the same rhythm as the radio that played in the back. Over his shoulder he saw Till and Oliver joining Paul at his table, introducing each other; shaking hands. That made him smile, no matter how fed up he often grew with his friends, they were good guys and meant well. His eyes landed on the stranger in the middle who, despite his looks, looked out of place. His uncertain eyes trained on the glass that was now sitting empty in his hands. It surprised Richard to see him still wearing his gloves. The temperature in the bar was unpleasantly high and left Richard in only his short sleeved shirt. Not even the beer seeping over his legs had cooled him down.

When Richard paid he skilfully carried all four drinks to the table, earning a worried glance from the bartender as he clutched the glasses tightly between his stretched fingers. Dropping a beer once was enough for him, he wouldn’t let that happen two times in a row.

‘Ladies, your drinks.’ He said sarcastically as he put them down on the table, making a small bow towards the three. He chuckled to himself; thinking he might have had a drink too much after all, as he felt the alcohol catching up with him, swaying his vision. 

Oliver took his coke from the table and made a face. He was staying sober to drive home in his car - but all could see how much he regretted his earlier made choices. Richard, being the kindhearted person he was, had offered Ollie to crash at his apartment for the night, as it was just a small walk from the bar, but Ollie declined saying something about his bed being more comfortable. 

‘Suit yourself’, Richard had replied, before adding in a quieter voice: ‘drama queen’. 

Usually Ollie was the one consuming the most alcohol without breaking face, like the steadfast person he was. His lanky appearance tricked one into thinking he’d be down after three shots, but until this day the man remained fixed as tower - resolute and stable. The only comparison one could make about Richard and towers, was the sheer resemblance between the crooked tower of Pisa and Richards’ balance when drunk. He behaved like a right tit whenever he was off his head and alcohol caught up with him quicker than he would ever admit. Often he cursed his DNA for it, but there was little his parents could do about it now. The damage was done.

With a thud he fell into his seat right across from Paul, who was eyeing his drink with caution. Why did he seem so uncomfortable, like he was constantly enveloped by danger. Annoyingly Rich felt as if the cause for the other his mistrust and hindrance, was him. Clasping his hands together on top of the table, he felt himself lean forward, entering Pauls personal space, as he searched his face from up close. He listened how his breathing hitched and saw him search for a way out. 

‘Do I scare you?’ He asked in all seriousness. 

The stranger furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating a lie over honesty. He swallowed, still not giving in to look into Richards intensive staring eyes. Like a child he was, staring without restraint. He wasn’t planning on letting his eyes leave Paul and with each second passing he found new expressions and twitches on his face that made his heart beat faster. There was a feeling of power arising in him, of being in control. It made him feel strong, but together with it came an extreme need of protectiveness. A nagging urge to protect the smaller man from, well he didn’t know from what exactly, but he knew he wanted to. There was a darkness around Paul, a past Richard didn’t know yet, but he sensed it. Like one can sense a thunderstorm before the flashes. 

He admired his hair, the short sides, his shining earrings and his short eyebrows. There was so much to discover on an unfamiliar face that made it impossible to look away. His eyes stopped when he saw a white lining of a scar, dangerously close to his eye, just under his lashes. Not that noticeable from afar, but up close it was clearly there. A sharp, deep white line that caught his attention and filled him with questions.

‘Yes.’ Paul replied in the end, realising a lie would be to obvious. Then finally he lifted his gaze to look at the dark fixed stare in front of him. He was so close. The tension in the air grew louder and with guilt Rich sunk back into his seat. He didn’t want him to be scared.

Oliver, oblivious to the tautness smirked. 

‘We’ve all been there. Rich can be quite frightening; an asshole too but you’ll learn to live with him.’ Under the table Richard kicked the man he was supposed to call his friend, right in the shin where it fucking hurt.

‘May I remind you that I’m sitting right here, prick.’

Ollie smiled childishly. ‘Words cut deeper than actions.’ He said with a challenging look plastered on his face. 

‘Yeh? Tell me that again when I’m wearing my good boots.’ Richard answered getting ready to kick again, but Till looked over at his violent friend with a warning, making him instantly put an end to the bickering as he retreated his leg. Till was a man of little words; he rose beyond them. At any situation he was the one in control, no questions asked. Richard and Oliver respected him too much to try anything and they felt privileged to be accepted in his presence. 

‘So what do you do Paul?’ Oliver asked, steering the conversation away from any form of violence. 

Finally Paul brought the glass to his lips and sipped contently at the beer Richard bought him. It always tasted better when someone else paid for it.

‘I work at Privatclub here in Berlin.’ Rich his ears pricked up. Of course he works there, he thought and wondered if he had seen him around before. Not only was it his favourite venue in the area, it also was the first place he’d want to play music if he ever made it into a band. Paul zipped his jacket open and pushed the fabric aside to proudly show the logo displayed on his shirt. 

‘I just finished my shift actually, but I wasn’t particularly in the mood to go home yet.’ He finished.

Interested with his explanation Richard prodded him to continue. 

‘Why not?’ 

Paul wavered, swallowing yet another mouthful of beer. ‘It’s quite a dramatic change from being surrounded by a couple thousand people to stepping into an empty house, you know.’ He answered honestly. 

So he lived alone, Richard realised. Somehow that made him even more vulnerable. He didn’t like the idea of Paul living by himself, without anyone around. 

‘Is there not a lady in your life then, hm?’ Till spoke up, finally breaking his silence. Obviously he broke it to shift the subject to women, but Richard had wondered the same thing and was glad Till was the one who asked the question. 

To his great surprise Paul blushed and grinned. Fuck me, he thought, he looked a different person with that smile on his face. Richard became euphoric with glee to see him grin and look so much lighter and younger. He felt talking to Paul was like peeling an onion, each layer that broke free showed a new, better and shinier piece. The wrinkles around his eyes painted a picture that he could not look away from. Shit, when did he become so soft.

‘Lady? No, no ladies for me.’ Paul kept smiling as if there was a joke somewhere behind the lines.

Till nodded knowingly, while Richard stayed clueless. His eyes flicked between his mates like he missed something. 

‘Fucks sake Rich, it’s the 21th century.’ Ollie facepalmed shaking his head. Till and Paul laughed to themselves and only then did it dawn on him. His mouth formed an O-shape and he could slap himself for making the second blunder of the night. Paul must think him an idiot.

‘Been single for a long time?’ His friend asked as he rolled the ball of his piercing around in his fingers. He recently went to get his second eyebrow piercing and could not stop touching it despite the piercer telling him to leave it alone. Somehow he just couldn’t or wouldn’t and tugged at it at every given moment. 

Paul reacted to the question by shaking his head. The peaceful smile that was displayed on his face almost instantly disappeared and washed out the happiness, as he started to pick his nails again. 

‘No.’ He whispered. 

Till grimaced. ’Sorry dude, did he break it off or..’

‘I did.’ Paul interrupted. ‘It was my fault, I erm.. don’t actually want to talk about it.’ 

Silence fell around the table. Richard felt hurt and anger, a twang of pain bloomed in his chest. The story was unknown to him, perhaps the stranger would never share it or perhaps they wouldn’t even see each other again after tonight. Richard hoped that wouldn’t be the case, for he was already way too invested in Paul. Richard often felt drawn to strangers because their stories were still so new, unknown and delicate. There was so much baggage to unpack; a long lived life filled with stories and experiences that he wanted to listen to and unravel. He was thrilled to listen - but also to tell. After all, he had his own stories too. Stories that he had told others a thousand times, would be new in the ears of a stranger. There was something so alluring about such exchanges, that tickled his interest and peaked his mood.

On the other end of the table Paul sighed deeply. A shaky sound escaped his throat and he coughed to cover it up, a useless gesture yet no one commented on it. 

‘I, eh gotta get home. Another long day tomorrow.’ He scratched his hair. ‘But thanks for the company.’ Paul stood up from his seat and smiled his fake smile again. One that seemed even more dull now Richard had seen the one which involved wrinkles around the eyes. 

‘Thanks for the beer Richard.’ He nodded as he walked away. Oliver and Till waved him goodbye and when he was out of view focused their gazes on the only silent man around the table. They looked judgmental and Till rolled his eyes.

‘What?’ Richard asked. 

Clenching his eyes shut Till groaned. 

‘Just fucking go after him.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got to say, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Slowly diving into Pauls troubled character and Richards cluelessness. And yes, I used inspiration from Shrek when I was writing that part about the onions.


	3. Horrifying Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard shares an embarrassing tale.

The rain fell on his head and dripped down along the sides of his rosy cheeks. From out of his pocket he took out his beanie, (the overpriced one which he had bought from the concert hall) and put it on, trying to keep some of the warmth from the bar close to him. The streets were bare, naked and cold and Paul felt like an intruder walking the empty pavement on his own, almost like he was disturbing the peace by placing the soles of his shoes in the puddles that had formed on the pavement. He grimaced thinking about his sudden departure. It all felt so futile now, walking out the way he did. For once he was actually enjoying himself in the company of others, but the questions about his ex brought him back and itched his skin. Would he ever be able to let it go? Forgetting it was not necessarily what he needed for he knew he’d live with it forever, but he had to find a way to cope with the pain, other than blocking it out completely.

‘Paul!’ Someone cried out his name, disturbing the quiet of the street. ‘Wait up!’ 

Turning around he saw Richard sprinting after him. The one person it all started with. 

He stopped in his step as he waited for the other man to catch up. With large paces Richard jumped over puddles and ditched getting his feet wet. Panting, the man arrived next to him, clutching his sides. Paul raised his eyebrows, unimpressed and gave him a minute to catch his breath, figuring he needed that. He wondered why he was here in the first place.

‘You alright there?’ Amused he asked.

Richard scolded at him, not wanting to admit he was trembling from the shortest track in human history. The beers didn’t help his stamina and the cold entered him, filling him up with shivers.

‘Fuck off, I’m not twenty anymore.’

Richard fumbled for his cigarettes, like that would improve his situation and tried to light one without the rain extinguishing the flame. Noticing his struggle, Paul moved closer and protected the small fire from the pouring water by holding his hands above it. He watched Richard take a drag, blow the smoke in the opposite direction and breath out in relief.

‘Thanks Paul.’

The smaller man nodded and asked. ‘Why are you here?’ 

Embarrassed Richard looked down, suddenly finding the pavement less intimidating to look at then the man that stood, still very closely, next to him. Till and his great ideas, he thought. Why did he have to be the one to follow Paul? He didn’t know why he obliged to everything Till told him to do, yet there was no way around it. The games of power he played worked and Rickard felt submissive to his questions, like a dog on a leash. 

‘I eh just.. I wanted to apologise for earlier.’ He replied in the end. ‘I was behaving like an idiot.’ 

Paul smiled, the apology felt honest enough. At the same time it sounded like Richard hadn’t spoken out apologies all too often. The strong persona he built crumbled under his words, as if he was a stranger to the situation. Paul was perhaps a bit too eager to accept his apology, but he thought I’d be good to let his guard down for once. Richards’ earnest words meant so much more than empty ‘I’m sorry’s’. 

‘It’s all fine man.’ Paul replied casually, not making a big deal out of it as he eyed the cigarette in his hand. 

‘Can I?’ He asked as he motioned towards it. 

Wordlessly Rich handed the shortened stick over to him and watched him bring it to his lips. Paul held it tightly between thumb and index finger as he let the smoke invade his lungs. It wasn’t often he smoked, only on occasions to calm his raised heartbeat down. 

‘Can I walk you home?’ Richard asked, surprising Paul. ‘If you don’t mind of course.’ He added. 

Something in Pauls chest skipped, perhaps his heart. He swallowed the lump in his throat that formed at Richards question. There was something so new and childlike about the whole ordeal that made him yearn for more. The kindness and soft words he wasn’t used to, but he felt his body cry out for more of it. 

‘Please.’ Paul said as he placed his hand on Richards arm out of affection. It happened without thinking, like his arm had its own willpower, yet it felt right. 

The two walked besides each other in silence. The rain still failing merciless from the sky, covering them both in a drenched suit. The space between them was small and Paul kept looking out of the corner of his eye for reasons why, hoping to find an explanation lingering with the other person. Why the hell was Richard walking him home? A stranger. They weren’t more than strangers at this point, unfamiliar with each other and Paul realised how confused he felt over it. Though his heart had found its natural rhythm and seemed at peace, his conscious and past experiences hesitated to put his trust in someone still so unknown to him. Looking over he saw a man with a friendly, content look depicted on his face. It only confused Paul more.

‘Did my friends behave when I went to get drinks?’ Richard spoke after the silence became too obvious. Without waiting for answer he continued. 

‘They are quite marvellous people really, but can be weird as hell. I think that’s how I fit into the group.’ He smirked. ‘I’m not that marvellous, just very very weird.’ 

Paul snickered. ‘Should I feel worried now this very very weird person is walking me home?’ With a smile Richard softly pushed his shoulder, like he earlier did with Till - just handling Paul more careful. 

‘O very worried.’

Paul hummed as the sardonic words left Richards lips. ‘So tell me something about yourself then, and I’ll judge if you are as weird you see yourself as.’

Richard dug into his memories trying to come up with strange story to tell; he knew he had plenty. All the challenges he’d accepted in the past made for some interesting content, but he searched for something that would impress Paul. Suddenly he knew.

‘Alright, I will tell you a special story, which I haven’t shared with anyone else before, because honestly if the wrong ears catch this, I’ll be a dead man.’ He paused questioning his fate.

Paul smirked; he loved secrets.

Rubbing his hands together, getting ready to tell the tale Richard inhaled a breath. 

’Alright, about a year ago Till came to my house to borrow some of my CD’s. He always quite liked the music I played him whenever he was around, so I recommended him some great artists and told him he could borrow my CD’s for a while. He picked out exactly the ones I’m quite proud and rather protective of, but it was Till we are talking about. I knew he would be careful with them, so I figured why not. He even told me he’d return the stack when he had listened to them. But, well - he never did.’ He shook his head, even thinking about it made him agitated. 

‘Months passed by, and I kept on asking and nagging him to give them back, but somehow he always had his excuses and reasons to keep them for just ‘a few more weeks.’ In the end I got so fed up with asking him to return them, that one day, I decided to break into his house and get them myself.’

Paul snickered. Of course he would. 

‘Laugh all you want, it’s going to get worse.’ Richard explained, mentally preparing the smaller man for what was to come. Inwardly he was glad Paul was enjoying the story as much as he liked telling it. He wanted to get it off his chest for so long and this felt the perfect opportunity.

‘I made a plan beforehand and watched a couple of ‘how to’ videos on how to pick a lock, as one does.’ He explained realising how naive he was.

‘The plan had to be executed on a Wednesday, because I knew for a fact Till would be at work and his house would be empty. So I picked a date and marked it on my calendar. By the time Wednesday rolled around I was ready to go. I arrived at his street, dressed in black like a fucking idiot and spotted his apartment. The lights were off - the street empty and bare. The perfect night for a crime.’ 

Paul kept himself from laughing at the bizarre story that started unfold in his imagination. He could see it happening and was eager to hear more. 

‘As I stood there in front of his house I foolishly tried to pick the lock using a hairpin, which I had bended in the right angle beforehand, but still somehow the thing wouldn’t budge. No matter what I tried the door remained shut, leaving me on the wrong side of the house and my precious CD’s on the inside. With my heartbeat rising by the second I waited for the click of the lock to open, but it never came.’

‘Out of frustration I hit the clink with my fist and instantly the damn thing flung open, showing me the empty hall of Tills apartment. Apparently Till never locked his door in the first place and I could have just walked in, without all that hassle. I was more angry with him then with myself for making it so easy.’ He sighed.

‘Still - I had to find my collection and it proved more difficult than I had calculated into my plan. I used the flashlight of my phone as a searchlight, but the effect was minimal. Downstairs was clear, not a trace of my CD’s in sight and I decided to move upstairs. On my way to the stairs I saw a baseball bat leaning against the couch and in the spur of the moment, I took it with me. Adrenaline does that to you, at a certain point your ‘inner criminal’ takes over.’

Richard paused in the middle of his story to light another cigarette. The pair was completely drenched, hair sticking to their heads, but neither seemed to notice. Paul already saw his apartment looming at the end of the street and slowed his step. He wasn’t ready for this night to end.

‘Anyway, this is where things get interesting.’ The storyteller said taking a drag. 

‘As I was climbing the stairs, I heard the front door open. No keys rattling for warning, nothing.’

Pauls eyes widen. ‘Shit!’

‘It was Till himself, snogging some lady. It was the first time I felt relieved they were busy licking each others faces off, because they didn’t notice me standing on the stairs; bat in one hand, flashlight in the other. Unseen by the two, I turned the light off and climbed the rest of the stairs in silence. To my disadvantage I had never been to this part of his house before, and I didn’t have much time to think about where to go. Desperately I opened the door closest to me and went inside. Bad choice; it was the fucking bedroom!’ 

‘Anyone could figure out which door the two were about to enter, and so I threw myself into his closet next to the bed, hiding away. Well, you can probably imagine what happened next. The pair bumped inside and did exactly what I was afraid of.’ 

Besides him Paul was in tears. He couldn’t contain his laughter any longer and clutched his stomach. 

‘P-please Richard stop, I’m going to pee myself.’ 

Out of sympathy he stopped his tale to let Paul catch his breath. But looking over, seeing the other man doubled over in laughter, made him break character and he howled along. Like two madmen they stood in the rain, roaring with laughter. 

‘To think you’ve kept this to yourself for so long!’ Paul spoke when he finally regained control of his voice. He couldn’t believe that had happened to him. Hearing your friend have sex is bad as it is, but hearing it while hiding in a closet, with a baseball bat in hand, was just ludicrous. 

‘The worst part, I still haven’t got my fucking CD’s back.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had something different in mind for this chapter, but I hope you'll like it anyways. Please let me know in the comments your thoughts :)


	4. Another Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this one broke me. Prepare yourself for sadness.

The next day Paul woke up with a grin lingering on his face from the previous night, as if it never left. For the first time in a long while he had a good night sleep and actually felt rested by the time he woke up. With lazy hands he pulled at the blankets, covering him up to his chin as he felt a breeze stroke his face, placing goosebumps on his arms. Yesterday he had enjoyed himself - a lot actually, which both scared and excited him. When the two arrived at his house the late that night - clothes grossly sticky from the rain, Paul insisted him to use the shower and borrow some of his clothes. He didn’t want Richard getting sick just because he felt obligated to walk Paul home. 

While Richard was showering, Paul simply changed his outfit into warm joggers and a white tank top that was resting in a bundle on top of his chair. With a towel he rubbed his hair dry and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; he was left startled with the man he saw staring back. His expression looked nothing like the way he used to look. The past months he had purposely avoided checking his reflection in the mirror, because it always left him disappointed afterwards. Now - he seemed happy, Paul frowned, stunned and turned away.

With the shower still running he decided to stretch the night a bit further. Walking into his small kitchen, he prepared some glühwein on the stove, one of his many guilty pleasures since recently. He emptied a bottle of red wine in a pan and let it slowly warm up, stirring occasionally. Instantly the sweet smell floated through his living room, changing his mood into a dreamy, drowsy one. He sliced some lemons, added cinnamon and a hint of anise and mixed it through, all the while the wine bubbled away in the pan. With a spoon he tasted if it needed anything more, but he was content the way it was; a bit sour, followed by a sweet aftertaste. Just like himself, he thought smugly.

‘Smells good Paul, what are you making?’ Richard said amused, sneaking up on him from behind. He rubbed at his hair to let it dry faster, though the motion made only his hair stand up in spikes. Curiously he stepped closer to look over his shoulder into the pan. The mixture bubbled away like red eruption of fire. Paul stood still, embracing the closeness of the other man, letting the warmth surround him. Feelings of nervousness erupted in his stomach and he tried to focus on the wine instead of the man standing close by. Richards breath on his shoulder felt hot and cold all the same. His freshly washed body smelled of the favourite shampoo Paul liked used. 

‘Wine.’ Was all he replied in response. It was the only word that could leave his lips, without stammering like a fool. Richard grinned, not taking one step back. 

‘That’s some special wine.’

-

Rolling over in his bed, Paul hid his smile in his pillow - like a child. Only thinking back of yesterdays events, made him blush and left him feeling fluttered. When did he become so soft, he wondered.

A knock on his door disrupted his thoughts. With displeasure he left his warm cocoon and slipped into his bathrobe that hung by the door. Hurriedly, not wanting to let the stranger wait outside, Paul rushed towards the drawer to get his keys to open the door. Unlike Till he did lock his front door, being the responsible adult he was, though thinking about it he probably wouldn’t mind it so much for Richard to hide in his closet. Again he smiled fondly at the memory Richard shared with him, as he pulled the door open.

Instantly his happiness disappeared. 

‘Hi baby.’ 

There on the porch, kindly smiling over at Paul, stood his ex, acting like nothing was wrong. Pauls shoulders slumped, his posture changed into the opposite of the confident man he felt like seconds ago. No, not again - please not again, he cried in himself. He avoided the eyes on him, a nervous habit he obtained when he was still with the other man, and focused instead on his feet that stood naked and bare on the carpet. Stefan let himself in and closed the door behind him, showing Paul who was in control.

‘What’s wrong? Aren’t you even going to greet me, hmm?’ Paul felt the fingers of his ex under his chin, forcing him to look up. The blue eyes he tried so hard to forget focussed on his, making him tremble. His mind screamed at him to leave, begged for him to go, still his mouth remained shut. Not daring to say the words of which he thought.

‘W-why are you here?’ Paul muttered.

Stefan seemed perplexed by his question. ‘I just missed you babe, I was at home and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.’ His hand was still touching Pauls face, stroking his cheek slowly. The feeling sent chills throughout Pauls body. He felt used. Touched. Violated.

‘W-we broke up, Stefan.’ He stammered. ‘It’s over. I-I want you to leave.’ Paul reached out and grabbed his hand to softly put it down, trying to be gentle. He immediately felt guilty for saying these words when he saw the sadness appear in his former lovers eyes. He just needed him to go. The safety he felt this morning, when he was on his own, vanished now his ex was back into his house. His house. Yet Stefan behaved he owned part of his property.

‘Come on, don’t be like this.’ Again his hand reached out, completely ignoring Pauls attempt to stop him, this time he stroked his arm up and down. 

‘Don’t you remember the good times we had together?’ He stepped closer still, his face so near the smaller man, that he could feel his breath on his neck. The feeling was nothing like yesterday when Richard leaned closely against him. Between him and Richard he had felt mutual affection, newness and a thrill of the unknown; now all he felt were forced touches that made him feel taken advantage of. Weak, defenceless and alone. 

Stefan noticed the effect he had on Paul and slyly grinned. He pushed it further by pressing his cheek against Paul, his mouth next to his ear. He heard his breath hitch and whispered softly.

‘I know you missed me too, Paulie.’ 

Faintly he placed a kiss on his neck and trailed down to his jaw. Not waiting for a reaction he kissed his chin and continued to the other side of his face. When he felt Paul struggle against him, he pinned his wrists against the wall and put more force into his kisses.

’Stop, p-please.’ The man underneath him squirmed. 

Teasing him a bit more, he bit his earlobe and grinned when he looked up at the worried face of his former lover. Stefan knew he still had power over him and that alone made him feel mighty. He didn’t care about Paul, all he wanted was to control him. He withdrew his hand from touching him and walked towards the living room where he seated himself in Paul his favourite chair and tapped his fingers against the leather seat. Paul looked at him, pained. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

‘I’d like a beer babe, I’m thirsty.’ 

With a trained gaze on the smaller man, he watched him struggle with his emotions. He looked tense, hurt and clenched his fists by his sides. Like he was debating with himself what his next step was going to be.

‘No.’ Paul disagreed. ‘No Stefan, you need to go.’ He repeated, making up his mind.

‘No?’ Stefan mimicked and sighed. 

‘Are you sure you want to disobey me?’ 

Slowly he stood up and walked closer, taking his time. With each step of the way, the fear on Pauls face increased, yet he wasn’t going to oblige and give in - he was stubborn like that. A small spark of hope lingered, perhaps if he stood his ground Stefan would leave, leave him behind to live his life without the other to destroy it. But studying his face, Paul knew he was enjoying himself far too much to leave.

The first smack on his face was bearable, but degrading. Paul fell down from the sudden impact and landed down on his knees. The carpet scraping his skin by the fall. His bathrobe opened and exposed him in only his tank top and boxers. That alone made him feel naked in the eyes of his first lover.

‘Do you really think it’s wise to say no to me, babe?’ Stefan said taking his short hair in his hand, tugging tightly while he bend down to make Paul look at him. Twisting, Paul felt cornered but not ready to give up without a fight. 

‘Get the fuck out, Stefan!’ He pulled himself out of his grip.

When the words reached his ex he hit him again, this time using his fist. Immediately after the second blow landed on his jaw, which he kissed so delicately before, the next one followed. The violence turned more aggressive each time his knuckles landed somewhere on Paul his small body and the pain increased. 

He tried crawling away, but Stefan seemed to predict his movements and was each time a step ahead of him. He was halfway up when Stefan kicked him and he fell again. He tried once more and this time his ex let him stand with his back against the wall. Sound and sight were becoming confused in the mad throbbing of his brain. His eyes were hot and painful. He felt sick.

‘You’ve always been such a brat.’ Stefan insulted him. 

Paul tried to catch up with his breath that was out of control. Slowly the dark spots in his vision disappeared, leaving him with a clear view of his ex. The man paced in front of him, upset with the other like everything had been his fault. 

‘Stefan you need to leave. We broke up, you can’t keep chasing me anymore.’ Paul said, carefully weighing his words before speaking them out. He needed him to understand.

‘I’m not yours anymore. I don’t..,’ he sighed. ‘-I don’t belong to you.’

Apparently even those words were pushing his limits.

‘Shut up!’ 

But Paul didn’t listen and told him again. ‘Stefan, you need to understand. You don’t own me.’

Rage and anger filled the others face, he breathed in sharp gasps. Then, in an instant, he picked the nearest thing to him and threw it at Paul. Glass splintered against the wall, just missing his face - shocking Paul so much that his breath skipped. 

Stefan wasn’t done. In his fist he took Paul by his shirt, abandoning the bathrobe as he pulled the man with him like a rag doll. This time Paul let him, he was too tired to put up a fight and felt himself grow limb in the others hands. Every second of it he hated; feeling the disappointment in himself increase. It all reminded him of how weak he was and worthless. His feet hit an uneven surface and looking down he noticed he was being pulled up the stairs. 

After much struggle Stefan made it to the top, his hands still clenched in Pauls shirt as he made the man stand up by himself. He did not give him any room to stand safely on the ground, instead he let him balance on his toes on the last step.

Closing the gap between them, Stefan leaned forward and let his hair tickle the other as he whispered in his ear. 

’I do own you Paulie, you belong to me.’ He said smirking.

As he pulled back he simultaneously let Pauls’ shirt go and pushed him forcefully down the stairs.

Paul shrieked and fell backwards, hitting his head, scraping his sides and snapping his wrist. The fall sent a wild pulsation through his brain, making the room dance. He heard voices around him and the sound of footsteps. Opening his right eye he spotted Stefan sitting in his favourite chair again, placed in the living room. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His fingers tapped the leather.

Paul knew what he meant. He knew Stefan had won. There was nothing more to do, then to give in. Barely able to stand up, he used the wall for support as his head tolled in the process. Blood smeared the wall. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound on leather made him feel physically sick. 

When finally his vision stabilised slightly, Paul pushed himself off the wall and walked to his kitchen. Every step of the way he felt new bruises forming and a wetness under his shirt left him frightened to look. He continued his step. He opened the fridge, picked something out and closed the door. With a limp in his step he stumbled towards the living room.

Tap. Tap. 

Swallowing he tasted blood. Two more steps and he arrived in front of his abuser. Stretching out his arm he placed the bottle of beer in the others hand. The tapping stopped.

‘Thank you baby.’ Was all the other replied, powerfully staring into Pauls broken gaze.


	5. Things Are Easier Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt excited to write this part, though I'm not entirely happy with the outcome.... kindly let me know your thoughts on it, and thanks for sticking with me!

The day that followed, passed agonisingly slow, torturing Richard as he tiredly glanced at the clock for what seemed the hundredth time today. He was more than ready for this week to end, to mark another work week finished - one in which he didn’t complete half the tasks he meant to finish. It filled him with frustration and drained him to still have so much on his plate and so little time. Friday was around the corner, and although that should leave him with a sense of serenity, it did quite the opposite. The mere fact that Monday would devilishly wait for him after the weekend, with yet another pile of new work was enough to torture him senseless. There was this pressure placed on his shoulders, weighing him down - an obligation for him to achieve whatever it was he needed to accomplish; he simply had to be useful. Wasting time without a fulfilling outcome was one thing he could not stand. If he didn’t perform, he felt his sense of worth dissipate into a blackness that was too dark to fall into. The worst part was, that he himself was the only one putting the pressure on his shoulders in the first place. 

Richard was distracted - had been all week. There was a certain person on his mind who entered his thoughts on more regular basis than he dared to admit. It left him frustrated to have Paul invade his mind so often, keeping him off work, but he could hardly blame the other man for his own thoughts. Clicking his pen in a nervous manner he watched the clock pass time. 

Would it be weird to visit Paul again, he thought. He was the only one to make the meeting happen since Paul did not know anything more of him but his name. He, on the other hand had knowledge of his address - yet inviting himself into Pauls’ house was perhaps pushing the boundary a bit too far. Other than knowing where he lived, the two did not have other ways of communicating. Stupidly he hadn’t asked for his number, so texting him was another opportunity wasted. Richard wondered if he left an impression good enough for the other to think of him too. It made him sigh, frustrated - of course he didn’t. He pondered if he had scared him off when he told the story of his crime. No, it wouldn’t’ve frightened him, it was the most he had seen him laugh all night. Only visualising his face and the wrinkles round his eyes made him feel warm, and left him with lingering questions in his head.

‘Stop it.’ He told himself sternly, sinking his hair in his hands. 

Suddenly, as though his mind wasn’t done with the puzzle that was Paul, a marvellous idea formed in his mind, derailing him from the uncompleted work that lied spread out on the table in front of him. 

‘Of course.’ He mumbled to no one but himself, thinking his brilliant thought over. Hastily he stood up from his desk and exited the office where he worked - where he was supposed to work for another forty minutes. But his thoughts were not with his boss, who would certainly be annoyed, but with Paul and his friendly face. Already fumbling to grab his cigarettes from his desk, he rushed out of the building.

About an hour later he stood on the porch of Pauls’ property. Looking slightly windswept and heart beating irregularly from rushing himself far too much. With a shake of his head he made his hair fall naturally around his face, apart from the few strands on top, which were spiked up; defying gravity. In his hands he carried the clothes Paul lend him on the rainy night - his perfect reason for the unannounced visit. The pile seemed to heavier than it should, it weighted him down. Probably it were just the nerves.

After knocking on the door, he scraped his voice growing more jittery as seconds passed. He wondered if his knock had been loud enough and questioned peeking through the window. But he didn’t want to be rude. Still he curiously glanced sideways hoping to catch a sight of Paul, to assure himself he hadn’t left his work only to stand in front of an empty house.

‘Calm the fuck down.’ He cursed himself. 

On the other side he finally heard a movement and with a click the door opened, slightly ajar. Only a small stroke of Pauls face became visible on the other side, as the man hid behind the larger part of the door. He seemed startled to see Richard and shied backwards.

‘Hey Paul.’ The man outside of the door said.

The smaller man frowned; a worried expression on his face. ’W-what are you doing here Rich?’

Something was off. He seemed tense and his eyes were glossy, as if..

‘Is everything alright?’ 

Richard desperately wanted to push the door wider open, but it felt too forward and the last thing he wanted was to intrude on the others’ privacy. There was an atmosphere in the air which was tight and distant, nothing like his previous visit where he felt welcomed, like he had known Paul for years. The man opposite him swallowed nervously, shifting his weight from one leg the other, hiding the tremble which shook him and pulsated through his frail body. Richards eyes trailed down; he could see far too little of him to pick up on his blood covered shirt. 

‘Paul?’

Like a cry for help, tearing Richards heart in two - Paul let out a sob. The desperate sound escaped his throat unwillingly and cut through the silence. Not longer able to contain himself Richard pushed the door open and was crushed at the sight. 

‘Paul, o shit no! W-what happened?’ He didn’t know where to look - his face bruised and bloody, his shirt ripped, arms scratched. Pain for the other crushed his chest, guilt for not being there and worry for what happened, tortured him merciless. It seemed a long time that he looked him up and down, trying to make sense of the situation, but he remained provided with no answers. 

‘Here come on, let’s sit you down is that okay?’ 

Paul nodded, allowing him to be led into the living room and glad Richard didn’t insist on answers. Carefully, not to hurt the man more than he already was hurt, he guided him towards the chair, but instantly Paul tensed and grew rigid.

‘Not there!’ He spoke wide eyed, looking at the brown leathered chair, like it triggered a memory. Even more confused with his behaviour Richard answered.

‘Okay, okay, that’s fine Paul,’ he said in the softest voice he could muster, ‘is the couch okay?’ 

Another nod from Paul confirmed his question, but still he did not take his eyes off the lonesome chair, acting like it was a wild animal waiting to leap and attack. Richard didn’t understand. He didn’t understand anything that was going on and he felt a heavy weight in his stomach, not sure if he wanted to learn exactly what had happened. When Paul sat down, he hurried himself to the kitchen to get a wet cloth and a cold glass of water, in a haste to treat the others’ wounds. 

‘Shh, you don’t have to explain anything if you don’t feel like it alright, just stay still and I’ll get you cleaned up.’ 

Richard repeated his words, assuring himself he could be of help. ‘I'll get you cleaned up.’ 

The sight of the bruised and broken man frightened him, so much so, that he didn’t know where to start. With the cloth in hand he swallowed and knelt down, unsure of himself. In front of him Paul looked helpless, like a child trying to make sense of the situation. Something in Richards mind switched, this was not the time to stumble and act nervous. He felt it only made it worse for Paul and that’s not what the man deserved. He needed to be looked after and that could only happen if Richard behaved like a man instead of this awkward persona he felt like. 

‘Paul, look at me.’ He began. ‘I’m going to lift your shirt up to see where the blood comes from, is that okay?’ 

The injured man confirmed by nodding. It seemed he retreated to that single head-movement, too scared to speak or perhaps it was embarrassment. His eyes never completely focused on his helper, staring next to him, like the eye contact too would be something he couldn’t yet deal with.

‘There we go.’ Richard spoke in himself as he carefully lifted the fabric of his shirt upwards. Some parts stuck to his skin, but the man made no sounds to indicate his pain. His expression spoke more truths; clenching his eyes shut and burying his hands in the couch to distract himself.

Fuck, thought Richard as soon as he saw the open wound which shined with redness. A knot in his throat clenched his airway shut; he was so furiously angry with whoever did this. This was no accident. His breathing turned erratic and his hands shook with venom for someone putting this kind man in pain. Just calm down, he told himself. Now was not the time for anger; impossible as it was, it would have to wait. The focus should remain on cleaning the wounds not on killing the person who was responsible. That would be a worry for later.

Silently he worked, dabbing the skin clean until all that remained was an angry cut, which would be there for a while. Perhaps even leaving a scar behind as a reminder of what happened. 

‘Do you have any antibacterial cream and bandages?’ Asked Richard while he searched for Pauls eyes.

’Just leave it as it is, it’ll be fine.’ 

Paul felt detached from the scene, not fully present to notice the pain anymore. Each time he replayed what had happened, he saw Stefan standing in front of the door, entering his apartment like he had done so many times before. It dawned on him that he would never fully be released from the net Stefan had spun, whatever way he turned he was stuck in the middle.

‘Don’t be silly, it’ll get infected.’ Richard argued. ‘I’m sure you have some in your bathroom.’ He said, already walking away to find what he was looking for.

Paul felt immensely grateful that Richard was here with him. It surprised him plenty that he hadn’t demanded any answers or walked out when he saw the trouble. Before he arrived here, Paul was an utter mess, seated on the floor, replaying what happened on an endless loop. The energy to lap himself up or even to stand up, seemed a task too burdensome to handle. Having someone else do it for him was both assuring as humiliating. The knock on the door had been a wake up call from the state he resided in, disrupting his vacant haze.

With a dizziness he stood up from the couch to inspect himself in the mirror, the dread of his appearance was nerve-racking. After some seconds of doubt, his eyes followed himself in the reflection until he saw himself staring back. He felt ugly. One side of his face had survived the blows surprisingly well. Sadly it only compensated for his other side, which demanded all the attention. On his cheek a gash showed prominently all the way down to his chin. It started swelling and coloured to mark a light green haze, which left little to the imagination of what happened. His forehead had been scratched as well, probably from his fall down the stairs. That was apparently where the pounding headache came from. For once Paul regretted his reclined hairline which gave him no possible chance to cover the scars up by styling his hair in front of his face.

In his reflection he saw Richard emerge back into the room, carrying bandages and other cleaning supplies.

‘O you’re up. I found what I was looking for!’ He said satisfied, holding the items in his arms up. Walking closer towards Paul, he noticed the way he was inspecting himself with sad eyes. 

He sighed coming to a stop behind him, looking into the mirror. ’This one looks kinda cool.’ He pointed at the cut on his cheek; a weak attempt to lift the sullen mood.

The injured man looked sideways. ‘You think so? Your definition of cool differs from mine.’ 

‘I look like someone ran me over with a truck.’ He paused, turning his head to find yet another bruise. ‘Twice.’ 

It felt better to joke about it than to weep over the ugliness that came with each fight. It left him somewhat annoyed not to have left any form of bruises on his ex; he could use a bit of colour. On the other hand, he really did not want to sink to the same level of abuse. 

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that. You look pretty badass to me.’ Said Richard.

‘You just need someone to take care of you. And you are in luck,’ he swung the bandages in his hand once more. ‘The rescuer has arrived.’ 

The shorter man smiled a pained and honest smile. 

‘I’m glad you’re here.’


	6. Comfortably Caring

With an amused expression playing on his face he watched when Paul couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. The exhaustion of today was catching up with him and Richard was there to see it happen. He saw the way his eyelids slowly shut close, then open again, startled - by the stubborn man who didn’t allow himself to sleep, even after a day as worrisome as today. The cycle repeated itself, until finally he gave in and let his eyes rest. Paul was still sat up straight, his head falling forwards like a child who had been left by itself for too long, without being given attention. At a certain point, when Richard was afraid he would wake himself up by the constant nodding, he reached out to let him lay down in his lap. The movement luckily didn’t wake him; his breathing continued in a steady way. 

This position gave him a good view to study him. The smooth texture of his skin, the slight stubble and the haircut that started to grow out a bit at the front. Pauls breathing sounded a little ragged and uneven as if he were in pain. Automatic, Richard lowered his hand and started to softly stroke his hair. The strands were too short to be tangled, nevertheless he pushed his fingers through them to smoothen the texture. It was calming to watch a man sleep. Breath in, and out, in and out following the same rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth that radiated off his body spread and invited him to lean back in the couch and enjoy the sleepiness in which the two resided. The rest of the room was quiet, apart from the blowing wind on the windows and the ticking of the heater. The sounds around, paired with the sleeping man in his lap, made his own eyes grow tired as well, and it took him only minutes to follow the other in a sleeping haze.

Unfortunately, even the most silent noise that differed from the regular sounds, brought the pair back to the world of the living, about twenty minutes later. They were a bit tangled up; Richards arm covering Paul, their legs intertwined to share the warmth, and their tiredness in sync. It took a while to figure out where the other noise came from, but once they were truly awake, they realised it was a phone that buzzed. Richard shot up, moving his sore muscles from the awkward position. He gave the other man the space he probably needed and murmured a ‘sorry’, while with a hassle, he lifted himself off the couch to fumble in his back pocket, grabbing his phone.

‘Yes?’ A little irritated from his disrupted sleep, he answered.

A much louder (too loud for his current state), voice answered. 

‘Richard! Where you at?’ It was Till. His unmistakably baritone voice was easily detectable, even in a state of weariness. The man next to him rubbed his eyes, looking flushed with one red cheek from sleeping. 

He sighed. ‘I’m with Paul actually.’

The line stayed silent, like the man was thinking deeply. 

‘Oh the guy from the bar you mean? Is he already making you forget what day it is?’ He huffed, sounding annoyed as well as amused. The perfect combination of emotions that usually don’t go together; except in his case they blended smoothly. A refined line between feeling hurt and humoured was a good description of Till, who seemed to dance along two opposites making them attract. 

Richard frowned at his words, until he realised he was meant to meet up with Till… today.

‘O fuck!’ He uttered, his brain catching up. ‘I’m so sorry, it totally slipped my mind.’ 

He could hit himself in the face, a guilty feeling crept up as he realised he had forgotten about the appointment he made with his friend just a week ago. Till had suggested to join him into town to look for a new guitar, which was an offer he happily jumped upon. He had felt thrilled at the prospect of having somebody to rant to. To let his enthusiasm about guitars out on, even if the obsession wasn’t mutual and the only response he would get, would be a couple of huffs and nods, still it had left him ecstatic. Till was interested in music yes, but he never expressed much more beyond that; often it felt he liked to remain a mystery even to his friends. Even so, Richard had been all the more excited when he decided to trod along with him. 

And now he forgot. 

‘It’s fine.’ Till answered shortly. ‘How are things with Paul?’ 

He looked over at the injured man, who definitely heard the conversation shared between him and his friend. Richards wasn’t sure if it was his place to tell what had happened; hell, he barely knew what went on before he had arrived, but the small nod Paul gave him, disrupted his doubts, giving him permission to tell Till. 

‘Not so great actually, I’m glad I went over to his house. But eh, it’s not really my place to tell.’ Paul mouthed ‘It’s okay’, to him. 

‘There might be someone we need to kill after Paul has told me what happened though.’ He wiped a hand over his face and looked again over at the man, who was now wearing a small smile. 

’Shit.’ Till sounded surprised. ‘Just give me a name and they’ll be dead by the morning.’

The seriousness with which he spoke made Richard wonder if he was telling the truth. He very well could be, without surprising anyone. Thinking about it, perhaps Richard would do the same. An eye for an eye - that sort of thing. 

‘You’ll be the first to know.’ He answered. ‘I promise.’ The two hung up soon after and Richard cuddled back into the couch, letting his mind wander to places they hadn’t treaded before, - hurting one was not often on his mind, but out of protectiveness, he would be able to do so. Definitely. 

‘How are you feeling now?’ 

Raising his shoulders slowly Paul answered, ‘A little better.’ He paused. ‘You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to sit here with me, if you want to go out with your friend.’

Richard frowned. ‘You think that’s what I’m doing?’ ‘Paul, I don’t feel any obligation to be here, - I want to. I would feel horrible if you were on your own now.’ 

The man looked down, shaking his head with a determined look in his face. A sort of determination to let the other live his life, without him there to ruin it. He felt unworthy to be looked after. 

‘Why? It’s happened before.’ 

Richard breath skipped; his body turned cold. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, he has hurt me before. This isn’t the first time, you know.’ ‘- i..-it usually isn’t this bad but he’s always been abusive.’ Paul explained. He didn’t know why he did, but with sharing came a sense of relief.

‘At first he only used words to hurt me. He dominated me, telling me how little I was worth, how pathetic I was and how sorry he felt for me.’ ‘I guess at that point I should have seen it coming. I should have stopped it there, but I didn’t. Instead I made up excuses for him. Perhaps he didn’t mean to do it, I would tell myself, perhaps he’ll regret it tomorrow.’ ‘Of course he never did. He took joy out of my pain, because it made him feel more in control.’ 

‘I made him feel powerful by being weak.’ 

Ashamed he looked down at his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Richard, who was quiet next to him. The silence was tight, filled with nerves and questions. Even the breaths Paul let out sounded too loud to his ears. He desperately wanted the other to say something, - to tell him, well, anything just to break the unbearable quiet; the silence he couldn’t live with. 

Unexpectedly, Paul tensed as he felt two strong arms wrapping around him. A head burying in the crook of his shoulder. The realisation struck him that Richard was hugging him, and immediately he calmed down. His own arms were stuck in the middle, too tightly was Richard hugging him to return it - yet it made him feel peaceful. The sensation of another body so close gave him a tingling skin, the caring tenderness was completely new and lifted his spirits higher than words could. Stefan never hugged him. Never touched him with affection. Never did anything that would make him feel good. 

‘I’m so sorry Paul.’ Richard spoke against his neck. The air he blew out when talking tickled his skin. Slowly, Paul moved his head against him, wanting to feel more of the unfamiliar warmth. His cheek rubbed softly against Richards hair, creating another tingle through his body, that was so real and raw. Richard felt Paul stir, in urgent need of physical contact and allowed him. It made him realise how much he needed this. Boldly, but gently Richard stroked his cheek and felt the bump that had formed from the fight under his fingers. Carefully he moved his face to place his lips above the bruise and kissed it. Pauls’ breath hitched. 

‘Is this okay?’ Richard questioned, not wanting to ruin the moment by being too forward. He felt he needed to ask for his consent before moving further, especially after what Paul had just told him. There was no way he was going to take advantage of the situation. He felt Paul nod against him as he pried his hands out of the way to place them on Richards back - showing him it was alright to continue. He smiled contently. The loving feeling shared between them was new for them both. They explored the unknown terrain; stroking, caressing - finding new pleasures from the innocent exchange. Richard had never done this, whatever this was. It was so intimate, so close and fragile that he didn’t want to break what was happening.

He fell back into the crook of Pauls neck, there he felt safe, like a hiding place for his emotions. There, he did not have to deal with eye contact or awkward glances. The tug in his chest remained after what Paul shared and it made him want to share snippets of his past. Not just because he felt he owed it to the other, but simply because he felt at ease and trusted Paul enough to share what was tucked away under a layer of strength. 

‘When I was younger.’ He started, his cheek tightly pressed against Pauls neck. ‘My father had an obvious preference to my sister instead of me. As a child it was always a challenge for me to get my fathers attention. I’d made drawings, learned to juggle, prepared a meal - it was all in vain. He usually looked away as soon as he noticed what I had done; no comment nothing, he would just ignore me. My sister on the on hand, didn’t even have to try. She could tie her shoelaces and he’d be beaming.’ Richard laughed at the irony. The memory of his youth still hurt. 

‘I suppose I haven’t changed much.’ He sighed. ‘I’m still trying to impress everyone, to get their attention. It’s fucking foolish to still be this dependant on being praised. Yet I can’t help it.’ 

Paul listened with interest to the man so close to him. They both had seen their share of pain, too much to handle on their own. In each others arms they felt stronger; like a bond had formed from the painful past. Paul gripped him tighter, as he whispered soothing words in his ear. 

At that point, the two realised how much they needed each other. And they were in no hurry to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are looking for me I'll be crying in a corner. SORRY but I think this was really cute


	7. Dark Nights Made Brighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess what.. I've just come up with an idea for a new story! I will definitely finish this one first, but be prepared... :) :)

‘I just thought he was interesting, you know. Closed off at first, hiding behind the lids of his eyes, seemingly afraid to spill his past when he would look into my eyes.’ Till and Oliver looked over at each other knowingly, bemused by yet another ramble of words coming from their friend, who was in awe of the man he met just a week prior. 

‘I was so glad I went by his house. Did I tell you he was on the floor when I arrived? He told me; said he couldn’t find the strength to get up until he heard the knock on the door.’ 

Oliver sighed, leaning forwards to grab his drink from the small table in front of him. ‘Yes, we know Rich. You’ve only just told us twelve times.’ He said as he fell back into the pillows of the couch. Till laughed in a hushed manner as he sipped on his whiskey. 

‘Don’t be a bitch about it, you weren’t there.’ Richard answered not in a mood to be taken the piss out of, especially not by Oliver. Somehow the two were always bickering, with unspoken words challenging each other to cross a line. With Till nearby, the line was never crossed, never even touched. It was merely seen from a distance without being given the chance to reach it. They should have felt thankful for their friend who always separated the two when things were about to get out of hand - instead at those times they found Tills’ help only the more infuriating. Sometimes it was therapeutic to curse at one another, blow off some steam by bringing each other to the brink of violence.

‘Why don’t you call him? Invite him over.’ Till suggested as he stood up straight, bending his legs to allow the blood flow to stream through them. He had been sitting too long - his legs tingling from the sensation. Opposite from him Richard looked various things; excited, nervous and deep in thought. Contemplating if he wanted his friends to properly meet Paul. 

‘Yes invite him over, at least then we don’t have to listen to your endless stories.’ Oliver pressed. 

The black haired man ignored his comment, while pulling the phone from his pocket he decided the company of the other man would be better than the one he was in right now. The idea quite thrilled him in all honesty. It had only been two days since he had seen Paul last and he wondered how he was doing. He wondered if his bruises had lessened and how his other wounds had healed. The pair did exchange phone numbers that day, to relieve Richard of his constant worrying about the situation and the two chatted every now and again, updating each other on how things were. It was comforting to do so; to have someone to talk to about even the silliest of things, like how the day was going. But it was the physical presence of the other which he missed most during those conversations. The last time he saw Paul, things had gotten quite intimate. It left him wondering how it had ever gotten to that situation and the questions remained. Richard wasn’t the touchy-feely type, no - quite the opposite. He liked to control the situation and get it over with - being a man, he felt that was what was expected of him. To rule and be the one in demand. Women were the ones who needed to be comforted, women were the ones who were allowed to act needy, to crave comfort, plead for hugs and kisses. Not Richard, not a man. No - what would his friends think of him if he ever presented himself as weak. Apart from that, he never thought about the possibility or even the option of being with another man. All his life women were his go-to. That was what he knew and felt comfortable with, because he knew how to act. The thought of being with Paul had crossed his mind and it scared him. Paul made him feel things no man had ever made him feel before. Somewhere in the back of his mind it was what he wanted. More than ever before. He wanted to experience that closure with Paul. The man whom he just met. Somehow, it didn’t feel strange to act that way around him. It just felt right. 

With sweaty palms he finally made up his mind and pressed at Pauls name on his screen, until a repeating dialling tone rang through the living room. Everyone seemed keen to listen in on the conversation that would soon follow and shut their mouths. The tone repeated itself to the same beeping sound, nerving Richard who immediately thought the worst. With redundant haste he rose from his chair and paced anxiously through the living room. The small room suddenly seemed too meager for his haphazard paces; the dialling tone too loud. With his back turned towards his friends he waited a bit longer.

‘Come on, pick up the damn phone!’ He muttered. 

For once Ollie seemed serious and looked concerned for the man who, after a couple minutes, still hadn’t picked up the phone that rang on an endless loop. Perhaps he was wrong to tease Rich before, who now bit the nails of his hand that wasn’t holding the phone tightly to his ear. His worries subsided when finally he heard the dialling stop and a rustle sounded on the other side. 

‘Hé Rich!’ A cheerful voice said.

‘Paul! Are you okay?’ Richard asked without wasting any time. A pause followed; Paul was surprised by the worried tone in his voice. 

‘Yeh, peachy.’ He replied.

A sigh escaped Richards lips. ‘Fucks sake, pick up your phone quicker next time.’

He heard Paul snicker and rummage some more. The noises through the phone didn’t betray what exactly he was doing, but he seemed to be moving a lot.

‘Sure, next time I take a shower I will take you with me.’ Paul replied, but as soon as the words left his mouth he realised how it sounded. 

‘I-I meant, the phone.’ He rectified, grimacing at his stupidity. He was busy drying his damp body, with the phone clamped between shoulder and ear. Again, like a coping mechanism, he had turned the shower on its coldest setting, freezing his body in the process. The bathroom window blew cold air inside, making it even harder for his body to warm up. Paul enjoyed the shivers as he stepped into his boxers, a bit unsteady. 

Richard felt his cheeks grow hot. Not only because of what Paul joked about, but for the image that had formed in his mind; the two of them in a bathroom was something he didn’t think he’d need visuals for.

’I’ll keep that in mind.’ He laughed awkwardly, hoping his friends didn’t quite hear that part. Without dwelling on it too much he decided to quickly change the subject.

‘Actually, I wanted to ask if you were free tonight. I am at Tills’ house together with Oliver, who you met at the bar, remember?’ He looked with a smirk over at Ollie. ‘The annoying guy who asked too many questions.’

A sly smile appeared on Pauls face at the indirect invite and the sneering comment about his friend.

‘Yeh, I’m free.’ Hasty he checked himself in the mirror, coming to realise his torso, neck and face still looked painfully red and swollen. Richard had already seen part of him that way, but the rest worried him. 

‘Have you ehh.. have you told them what happened?’ 

Richard nodded and looked over at his friends, who sat still like silent school children listening in on the conversation. Sneaky fucks, he thought. 

’They know. But don’t worry about that, they are thrilled to see you again.’ 

-

It took a while to convince Paul to come over. He seemed in conflict with himself, on the one hand seeing Richard and his friends again sounded like the perfect distraction for all that had happened, it sounded much better than staying in his own presence, yet on the other hand, his confidence level at this particular moment couldn’t sink any lower. Repeatedly he studied his mirrored image. It didn’t do him any good; with each turn of his head he found new insecurities, past scars and spots he would rather cover up than show. In the end he decided to hide some parts by wearing a long sleeved shirt and a beanie placed over his ears. The gash on his cheek was left, gaping at him, like a bully so prominently present, without a solution hide it from sight. 

With his mind only fixed on the prosperity of seeing Richard again, he finally left his bathroom and grabbed his jacket. His hands shook and he wondered if the cold had been the cause or merely his nerves; a bit of both perhaps. 

The streets of Berlin were desolate, apart from the few people walking their dogs. Paul liked the night life; not necessarily the partying, drinking and going out, but the silence and darkness that held a certain romance to it. The night air seemed to breath more, almost as if it was on its break from the people breathing it in. Tall black trees swayed, ruffling their leaves, blowing brisk gusts of air through the few strollers on the pavement. It added to the magical feeling Paul yearned for. 

In the distance he saw the house that belonged to Till. Richard had described exactly where his friend lived, and luckily Paul knew the area well enough to walk himself to the located house. In the garden - well perhaps it was too small to bare that name, stood a man with a cloud of smoke dancing around him. From afar he seemed to notice Paul and waved eagerly at the smaller man. Within a few paces the two were reunited, standing just a few feet apart, across from each other.

‘Hi Paul.’ Richard said coyly, smiling his famous smile, that drew up one part of his mouth more than the other, in a cheeky smirk. Richard instantly reached out and hugged him close. The familiar smell of the man in black felt like coming home to Paul as he nestled his face into his shoulder. He could almost taste the cigarettes and the sweet smell which surrounded him and invited him in. 

‘God you’re cold!’ Richard said surprised as he pulled back, keeping his hands on Pauls arms. The smaller man noticed how his eyes trailed along his face, studying him every part to check if he was doing alright. 

‘Your face looks better.’ He stated when Paul didn’t answer. 

‘Does it hurt still?’ Richard reached out and traced the red angry line across his cheek, his finger treading over it carefully. The man held his breath, pleased to be touched so delicately and Richard noticed. He knew he had an effect on him, which pleased him greatly. With slow motions he moved his hand to sweep his thumb over his cheek, his fingers slowly treading in his hair. Pauls’ eyes fluttered, affected by the feeling. When in the end the man retreated his hand, Paul was able to form sentences again - his brain finally catching up with him.

‘It’s a bit sore still, but much better than it was. I just hope it won’t leave a scar behind.’ He replied for the first time since he’d arrived. The goosebumps on his arms had increased ever since Richard touched him and he shuddered when another wind blew through the air. Perhaps he should’ve worn his gloves.

Richard nodded, agreeing with him. ‘Either way, you look good.’ He complimented making him smile. 

‘Come on, I’ll show you inside.’ Simultaneously placing his hand on the lower back of the other, he guided him in. Pauls face broke into a grin when he remembered this was the house Richard talked about on the first night they met. The house he broke into, trying to get his CD’s back. In his mind the house had looked somewhat different - larger than the one in front of him now, but it didn’t make the story any less hilarious. 

‘There they are!’ Till said happily, greeting the two in the door opening. In his hands he carried drinks for them both, which he handed out the second they stepped inside. He tried not to focus too much on Pauls’ bruises, not wanting to make the other uncomfortable, but he grimaced as he saw the wounds. For once Richard hadn’t exaggerated. The bruises were dark, covering a large part of his face like he had been slammed into something. 

‘Shit, how are you Paul? Rich told us what happened. If we ever need to hunt that fucker down to mess with him, just say the word.’ He said brutally, laying a hand on his shoulder to express his words. The violent nature was part of him, usually directed at himself instead of others; but he well knew how to cause pain. Paul appreciated the concern, but still he seemed uncomfortable to talk about it and didn’t reply to the part about hurting his ex. For him that was taking things a step too far, even though he knew Stefan should be taught a lesson. He stayed close next to Richard, touching sides. Till noticed and he saw the bond between them. It surprised him somewhat to see Richard behave with such affection towards the other; he couldn’t recall a time where he was ever this comfortable around anyone, other than himself and Oliver. Richards eyes followed Paul every movement, studying his emotions. 

‘I’m doing much better. I was really glad Richard was there.’ He said with a close mouthed smile.

‘Me too.’ Hummed Till satisfied. ‘Me too.’ He repeated.

‘Come, let’s disturb Ollie’s quiet time, see if he’s knocked himself out yet.’ 

Richard grumbled in a bad-tempered way at the name of his supposed friend. Somehow he knew he’d take the piss out of him now Paul had arrived. The teasing he could stand when he was with only Till. But with Paul in the middle he felt a tension rising in his stomach, and feared he might do something to put a stop to the messing about.

‘Yeh, Ollie. I almost forgot that rotter was here as well.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all the (amazingggg) people who are still with me, I thank you so much!! It's absolutely amazing to read your comments and it literally makes my day! So kudos to you. X


	8. Confirmed Doubts

The seats on the chairs were taken well before Richard and Paul had a change to sit down, so they were forced to take the small couch in the middle of the room. It wouldn’t be much of a problem, but the seats were small - too small to sit in without gliding over and sliding to the middle. Till and Oliver seemed to have set it up; purposely leaving the two-seater empty for the newfound friends. 

Paul didn’t mind. He was quite content to feel the warmth of Richards leg touching him, his arm against his own, feeling every movement and twitch as he relocated himself continuously, not being able to sit still for more than two seconds. His dark clothes rubbed across Pauls’, and caressed him. With wonder Paul looked around the room so new to him. The walls were painted haphazardly, showing the strokes of the brush near the edges, like the painter grew tired with his work. The floor was used for storage, as the cabinets and bookshelf were missing. Books, on the other hand, were collected by dozens. Stacked up on top of each other, forming pillars that leaned against one another to create a vastness. Of course, Paul was interested in one of the books all the way at the bottom, but felt a disappointment knowing he could never take it from the pile without it tumbling over. 

The friends were talking among themselves, about subjects Paul knew nothing of. He felt a certain tension between Oliver and Richard, one he hadn’t picked up on the first night they were joined together. The sighs and shakes of head confirmed Pauls’ thoughts. Richard didn’t hide his agitation well and strangely Paul felt the need to comfort him by placing his hand on his leg. He retained himself from doing so though - with great difficulty. The subject changed in the course of the conversation, to Richards exes. A subject Paul wanted to learn more about, yet on the other hand he felt like a total intruder to listen along. He’d rather have Richard tell him about it, instead of this, out in the open.

‘It’s not likely she hooked up with anyone else while she was still dating me. I think I would have noticed.’ Richard explained. 

Oliver didn’t move a muscle, sitting still with a confident look plastered on his face. 

‘What, you would have noticed? Honestly?’ He let out a laugh. ‘I’d be surprised you noticed anything about her - come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you pay attention to her, other than using her for your own pleasures.’ 

Next to him the man shook his head, his anger building up. He leaned forward in his seat, closer against Paul - only to look more intimidation towards Ollie, who wasn’t fazed by it.

‘Why the fuck are you bringing this shit up for, huh? We broke up for a reason and it has nothing to do with cheating. We weren’t right for each other.’ 

Oliver nodded. ‘Stick with that thought.’ 

Smirking that he succeeded in riling the other up and planting doubts in his mind, he leaned back into his seat; satisfied by the confused and angered look aimed at him. 

Paul fiddled with his fingers, looking down he noticed the tips were still blue. It calmed him down. 

‘Well, it’s comforting to know I’m not the only one with problems in a relationship.’ He said quietly.

Surprised the conversation was broken by Paul, Richard looked over - seemingly having forgotten he was there as well, and slowly a grin broke out on his face, softening his features that before stood hard and irritated. Smoothly he placed his arm on the back of the sofa, close to Pauls’ shoulder. The man had so much charisma surrounding him, so much character, that it made Pauls’ heartbeat speed up. 

Till, quiet on the opposite side of the table, watched how the scene lapsed in front of him. It usually went like this - Oliver would bring up shit to annoy the other and they’d bicker about it for far too long, making a deal out of something minor. At times it was amusing to watch, but mostly it got old. He would have to be the one to separate the two, bringing the peace back, like some peaceful meddler he didn’t see himself as. Now with Paul in the middle, a small spark of hope sprung to life that he perhaps could take over. He watched how Richard looked at him, amused, interested and something else in his eyes - was it desire? That made him think. Already had Till picked up on the affectioned way, with which Richard presented himself in front of Paul, but he hadn’t realised there was something more. It made him wonder if Richard himself knew. It would confuse him, seeing he had always dated women - never thought about anything different. It could become a struggle for him, Till thought quietly. He was often hard on himself. 

The tension in the air faded and the boys continued conversation without throwing dead glares. At a certain point Paul excused himself to the bathroom and Richard kindly suggested to show the way. He lazily placed his hand on the lower back of Paul and led him forward. Oliver raised his eyebrows, also confused by the behaviour of his friend, which seemed so out of character. He was normally not this caring. 

‘Is it just me or do you think Richard really fancies Paul?’ He said when the two were out of sight. 

Till grinned now the other had also picked up on it and sipped casually on the drink in his hand. In the other room he heard the two talking with each other, having picked a spot where they could be on their own, without being made fun of. 

‘I figured.’

The skinny man frowned. ‘I don’t know what to do with that information.’ His head spun at the idea. ‘Should I tease him, pick on him for liking men? I bet I can embarrass him so much, knowing this. Shit, it’s like a whole world of possibilities has opened up for me.’ Dazed, Oliver stared ahead.

Till knew he was only joking - still he wasn’t going to wait for drama to start, or better yet, spur it on. 

‘Just leave them be, I think Richard will have a hard enough time to accept it for himself.’ 

He sighed and lifted himself of his chair to refill his glass. Once having done so, he lifted it towards Oliver, asking without words if he too wanted another one. With a confirming nod, he raised the bottle to fill the others’ glass and plunged himself back in his chair. His head was slowly starting to spin from the alcohol already consumed, and he knew after this glass he’d be drunk enough to relax completely. Content, he closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning and breathed in the quiet atmosphere surrounding them. 

The lanky man was far from drunk or even tipsy and he let his mind run free. He had never once thought Richard would take a liking in men. Even thinking of his friend, he pictured a woman at his hip. It was a bit odd and the realisation had yet to sink in, but Oliver had a good feeling about it. From what he gathered so far, he could see Paul being the perfect change Richard needed in his life. It would be quite the responsibility to care for Paul, seeing all he had to endure during his past relationship, but the challenge would be good for Rich. He needed someone. 

-

In the other room the two new-found friends were talking. Paul smiled each time Richard pushed his jet black hair from his face, as the stubborn strand of hair repeatedly fell back in front of his eyes.

‘I can only apologise for Ollie’s behaviour, he’s a bit of a dick.’ He claimed; leaning against the wall. 

Paul raised his eyebrows, he knew too little to judge the other, but felt a little cheeky. 

‘Both of you are.’ He answered with a smirk. He wanted to push his buttons a bit, carefully treading the ice to see where it would break. Paul understood Richard a bit, but he was curious to see how much he would accept of him. 

A cocky smile formed on the other mans' face, hearing his answer. 

‘Am I now?’ Sneaky Richard stepped forward, closing the space between them by placing his face right next to Pauls’. 

With his mouth close to his ear, he whispered: ‘I’m sure you like it.’ Richard was pleased when he noticed Paul shudder at his words. He liked to have a certain effect on people and Paul was easy to impress. 

The man in black suddenly felt the cold radiating off of Paul while standing so close, and concerned stepped back to look at him. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now he inspected him up and down he came to realise the other was cold as ice. His lips had little colour on them and his face was white, as if the blood stopped radiating through them. Without asking Richard grabbed his hand and felt his freezing fingers in his own. Shocked by the sudden change of character, the smaller man looked at him in question with his eyes wide, but didn’t pull his hand back.

‘Paul? Why are you so cold?’ 

Checking his reaction he was left with even more questions as a guilty look crossed his face. Paul looked down, back into his shell. It hurt Richard to be the one who put him in this place, especially seeing how open and carefree he had gotten. But he had to ask, he simply had to know.

Paul mumbled. ‘Just a-a bad blood flow, is all.’ He retracted his hand and pushed his sleeves over his fingers, done with the inspection. Richard caught the lie instantly.

‘Bullshit Paul.’ He replied harshly. 

Like a wounded animal, Paul looked up. He questioned whether or not he should tell him. In his head, his way to cope by showering under an icy stream sounded reasonable, but he knew that most people would call it sick to do so. In the end Paul decided silence was the easy way out and went with that. Under the pressure of the others gaze, not even the tingling sensation of his blue hands distracted him enough to feel at ease. 

‘Come on Paul, talk to me.’ Richard pleaded. ‘I just need to know if you’re okay.’

‘It’s sick Rich.’ Paul replied, seeing no other way out. ‘I-I like the cold. It’s a way for me to focus on something else other than my thoughts.’ Paul hugged himself, wrapping his arms around his small body. 

‘Watching my body turn blue is distracting me from the emotional pain.’ After his words left his mouth he didn’t dare look at Richard. He didn’t dare think of how he sounded. He felt weak and exposed. 

In front of him Richard frowned. The harm was imposed on himself. That was the last thing he expected to hear. As if he hadn’t suffered enough already Paul directed this coping mechanism onto himself only to think of something different. It showed him how much more was going on underneath his strong exterior, how much he still hid away to not let others worry as much. And perhaps it was strange of him, but Richard could understand where it came from. He didn’t approve of it, but he could resonate with him.

‘O Paul.’ He said, an unsteady breath left his lips. ’I am so sorry.’ With slow movements he placed his hand under his chin to make him look up. Showing him he meant the words he said. 

‘If you feel like it again, please call me and I’ll come over. We’ll find new ways to cope with the feeling, maybe we can replace it with something else.’ He suggested softly. ‘This shouldn’t be something you have to deal with by yourself, alright?’ He looked serious and rose his eyebrows.

The worried look on Pauls face changed into a somewhat more surprised one. He couldn’t express how much Richards words meant to him. The thing was that he knew he was right - he was so right, but it would be hard for him to quit what he had done for such a long time. For a while it hadn’t felt like a bad thing to do anymore, because it helped him get through some tough times emotionally. Of course letting your body suffer for the emotional baggage was never healthy; it was even dangerous to do so. Still, it was an addiction he couldn’t fight off by himself. Having someone who voluntarily wanted to help him with his coping mechanism, was something he didn’t think he’d ever find. 

Instead of answering, Paul reached out and hugged Richard close to him, showing him how much he appreciated the kindness. Richard breathed in and buried his face into the crook of his neck, needing the other as much as he needed him. They were like two elements, fire and water as the melted into each others touch, colliding the forces to become one together. 

Richard pushed back, his body out of Pauls grip and studied his face once more. With his thumb he stroked his cheek, not breaking eye contact with the other, letting him know he was there. The connection was slow and deliberate, the touch intimate. Without thinking his actions over, Richard leaned forwards until his lips touched Pauls. The smaller man breathed in through his nose, shocked by the sudden kiss, but never broke contact. Instead, when he realised what was happening, he pushed himself closer against Richard and eagerly kissed back. 

His whole body felt on fire, even by the innocence of a first kiss - it felt real, honest. Richard had his hands still placed on Pauls face as he focussed on the cold lips against his own. There was something foreign about kissing a man. It was so different from the soft features of a woman, which he was used to. This felt more rough and more real. Pauls stubble tingled his fingers and he broke the kiss to catch his breath. Still he held onto his face and leaned his forehead against him. With deliberation he stared into Pauls dilated eyes, a smile placed on the lips he just kissed was enough confirmation for him to know he had enjoyed it as much as he did. 

When Paul found his voice he smiled widely, wrinkling the skin around his eyes. 

’If that’s what you had in mind with replacing my coping mechanism, then I think it will work out just fine.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me quite some time to write, sorrrryyy - but here it is, (they finally kissed!)


End file.
